


Housewarming

by ElDiablito_SF



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Explicit Sexual Content, Husbands, M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-07
Updated: 2014-06-07
Packaged: 2018-02-03 17:43:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1753310
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElDiablito_SF/pseuds/ElDiablito_SF
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Together they crossed the threshold into the next stage of their lives.  (Which was also full of sex.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Housewarming

**Author's Note:**

  * For [swietlik](https://archiveofourown.org/users/swietlik/gifts), [BeaRyan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BeaRyan/gifts).



> So there was [this post](http://bea2me.tumblr.com/post/87922781915/hey-bea-can-you-write-miloe-husbands-for-swee-she) on Tumblr and a follow up discussion of how the giving of porns is the most romantic act I can commit. Therefore, please enjoy the follow on porns!
> 
> The line in my summary is the last line in Bea's tag fic.

The house was empty now. It had been staged for the viewing, of course, and Bass understood that very well (he was quite up on his interior decorating and real estate ploys, down to the whole “bake the apple pie” trick), but he still wished the agent hadn’t removed the rented furniture. 

“Bad news, lover,” he turned to Miles, “There’s no way I’m letting you bring that ugly-ass orange arm chair in here.”

“But…” Miles’ lower lip protruded with extreme puppy-eyed intensity. “I love that arm chair. It’s my main man throne.”

“The toilet is your main man throne, Miles.”

“I live in that thing!”

“Yeah and it smells like twenty year old beer and cigarettes.”

“We’ve fucked in that thing like fifty times!” Miles attempted a last ditch protest, relying on Bass’ sentimentality to carry the day. “It’s… a romantic relic.”

Bass cocked an unimpressed eyebrow in Miles’ direction. “Remind me again why I married you?”

“Because I play the guitar like Orpheus played the lute and I have a huge cock?”

“Fair enough.” Bass pulled Miles closer by his well-worn t-shirt and pressed his lips to the underside of his man’s unshaven jaw. “But the chair monstrosity still has to go.” Miles whimpered and attempted to bite Bass’ lower lip in fruitless revenge. “We’ll buy you a new throne, baby. A better throne. A throne worthy of you and your elephantine cock.”

“Sweet talker,” Miles nuzzled closer, refusing to admit defeat, at least not aloud. His hand snaked down over the band of Bass’ tight jeans, fingers worming their way into the back pockets. This wasn’t going to be much of a walk-through. 

“I promise we’ll even break it in as soon as we get it.” Bass’ own hands traveled up Miles’ spine, sending shivers of accustomed desire through his limbs. 

“We don’t have to wait until we get it, do we?”

Bass laughed and ran his fingers through Miles’ hair, messing it up into unruly hedgehog strands that stood at attention in a comical mirror to what was happening below his belt.

“You’re still negotiating with me?”

“It _is_ my favorite chair.”

Bass gave a demonstrative and clearly facetious sigh. “You’re _such_ a taskmaster, and pleasing you is such a hardship.”

“Yeah,” Miles rocked forward, bringing their crotches flush against each other. “I can tell.”

“The bedroom just had new carpet put in,” Bass breathed against Miles’ neck.

“Perfect. Your ass is gonna get rug burned so prettily.” Miles pulled Bass up the stairs, ignoring the small welp of indignation from his husband.

“Maybe _your_ ass will get rug burned!”

“Don’t talk smack, soldier!”

He wasn’t going to argue, not particularly, but when Miles got into a certain mood it just made things that much more fun. Bass tackled his newly anointed spouse to the floor, the freshly installed carpet cushioning their fall. Soon, their bed would be here, but for now, they’d have to use their imagination.

“Definitely time to christen this place,” Miles muttered, kissing along the ligaments of Bass’ neck even as the other man tried to press him into the floor, nails raking along his flanks and his shoulders. He pulled Bass’ shirt over his head and tossed it into the corner, taking time to admire the smooth expanses of Bass’ broad chest and ridiculous washboard abs. He was lucky his husband loved him so much because Miles had certainly let himself go since his discharge, by military standards anyways. But, he figured, the hardness of his cock could more than compensate for whatever softness he’d developed elsewhere.

“You wanna fuck me so bad, don’t you, baby?” Bass’ bright, blue eyes twinkled with playfulness that had just an edge of desire.

“Uh huh,” Miles nodded, trying to catch various parts of Bass with his lips and teeth. He had flighty fingers and performed evasive maneuvers with his face in such a way that it also blocked access to his neck. In other words, he was being an infuriating tease. “C’mere, babe,” finally, he stilled Bass’ head with his hand in the tight curls of his hair, and pressed their lips together. They both moaned into the kiss, groins slamming together hard enough to leave bruises.

Bass had picked out the carpet personally. He didn’t want that shaggy crap, it looked like a cheap motel from the 70’s and accumulated more allergens than an enemy combatant’s can of toxic gas. At the time, Miles had called him “Your Highness” and mocked him relentlessly for being persnickety. But now, he had to admit, the carpet Bass had picked out was perfect for this (and it looked pretty nice too).

Miles’ shirt quickly joined Bass’ in the corner of the room and he felt Bass’ fingers combing through the downy hair of his abdomen. He was so lucky to have someone like Bass, with his endless warm gaze of unconditional love, and his ridiculously perfect lips that could pull Miles’ very soul from the tip of his dick or out of his throat along with a coterie of expletives. Those lips which were currently busy sucking very visible hickies right in the space between Miles’ collarbones.

“Bass, fuck…”

“Yes, in a second.”

Miles bucked up for emphasis, hands finding his husband’s fly and undoing it with the same dexterity he’d use to reload his old gun. Some things you only got better at with age.

“Lube in my back pocket,” he whispered as his hands found the naked globes of Bass’ rear and kneaded them like dough. Delectable.

“Forever the boy scout,” Bass panted, making quick work of Miles’ pants and extracting the promised lube.

“Forever the optimist,” Miles joked, swallowing spurts of Bass’ laughter with his hungry lips. He was already hard and Bass had barely even touched his dick. And then Bass reached behind him, head thrown back, throat exposed, as he working himself open with lube-covered fingers. “Christ, I’m so glad I married you,” Miles gasped, taking the tube out of Bass’ available hand and quickly applying it to his cock with sure, deliberate strokes. The very thought of Bass riding him, right there on the floor, was enough to make him pray to the sex gods to make this last. He was eager and throbbing to be inside Bass, and watching him as he worked his asshole open for Miles was really testing his mettle. 

Finally, Bass scooted up, thighs braced against Miles’ naked hips, their warmth a welcome aperitif for what was to come.

“All right, let’s break this house in,” Bass exhaled and lowered himself over Miles’ primed cock, thighs clenching and trembling as Miles felt himself disappear inside, inch by inch.

“God _damn._ ”

“I love you too, baby.”

“Mmmm… you’re perfect, magnificent, _oh_... mmmmffff.” Miles’ exultant exclamations were cut short as he buried his nose and teeth in the sweat-slicked comfort of Bass’ neck and thrust up, meeting the rhythm Bass was already setting.

They’ve been to war and back so many times before finally getting their walking papers that Miles had lost count. Still, of all the times he’d come home, nothing had ever completed his homecoming quite like sinking into the Bass to the hilt and holding him close, their hearts beating in wild tandem, as they fucked each other into a wild frenzy.

“God… yes… harder…” Bass’ nails dug angry grooves into Miles’ flesh and he finally had to flip them both over so that he could pummel his husband with the appropriate leverage and gusto.

“Take it, you little cockslut.”

“Make me, you big talker.”

They still loved talking dirty to each other as much as the first time when Miles had accidentally called Bass a “bitch” in bed, and then had the most mind-blowing sex with him (up to that point).

“Fuck, Miles, I’m so close.”

“That’s because you’re a big slut for my cock,” Miles squeezed out, using the last of his resolve to stave off his own orgasm long enough to grasp Bass’ cock in his hand and pump it in rhythm with his thrusts. Bass reeled him in again by the back of his neck, lips and teeth colliding in a kiss closer to devourment as he spilled all over Miles’ fist. Miles grinned complacently into his husband’s mouth. “That’s right. Come for daddy. That’s good.” One more thrust as he watched Bass’ eyes slowly shut in ecstasy and he emptied himself inside the welcome heat of that magnificent, tight ass. 

“Now _this_ ,” Bass groaned, thighs still clasped around Miles, “is my kind of housewarming.”

Miles slumped stickily all over Bass, ignoring the mess for the time being.

“Mmmm,” he muttered contently, “but you’re not getting rid of anymore of my other shit.”

“We’ll see,” Bass purred.

This had been the right decision - they were _definitely_ going to be happy here.


End file.
